


Scarecrow & Mr. Flynn (Season 2)

by dreamlittleyo



Series: Scarecrow and Mr. Flynn [2]
Category: Scarecrow and Mrs. King, Tron (1982), Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Crossover, Hand Jobs, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-26
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 18,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The adventures of a widowed computer genius and a spy whom he fell in with. (The second season)<br/>(<a href="http://dreamlittleyo.livejournal.com/183897.html">Master Post</a> on LJ)</p><div class="center">
<br/><img/></div>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Catch a Mongoose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daunt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daunt/gifts).



Conrad bids them farewell and heads off for his radio interview, limping awkwardly and leaning heavily on his cane. Kevin's never been shot before, but he imagines that has to hurt like hell, even days after the fact.

As soon as Conrad's out of earshot, Lee snorts, and Kevin turns on him with eyebrows arched high.

"What a cheeseball," Lee mutters, shaking his head. "What even was that? 'I love you, I'll never forget you…' Where do you _find_ these guys?"

Kevin shrugs, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"What can I say, I guess I made an impression," Kevin says. "Why? Jealous?"

" _No_ ," Lee says darkly. The speed of his reply suggests otherwise, and Kevin feels his smile quirk wider.

Lee rolls his eyes and turns to look pointedly at Buckingham Palace instead of at Kevin.

"I told you he couldn't be our Mongoose, though," Kevin gloats.

"I'll give you that one," Lee grudgingly concedes. Then, in a transparent effort to change the subject, he says, "When does your flight leave?"

"Whenever I want it to," Kevin says. It's one of the perks of having a private jet. "You could come with me, you know. I guaranty it will be more pleasant than whatever commercial flight you've got booked back to the states."

"I wish I could," Lee says. "But I can't leave until the last of the paperwork is sorted out. It could be days."

"Then let's goof off this afternoon, before I have to go. I don't usually get much chance to be a tourist when I travel." It's hard to make time for guided tours and photo opportunities at an international business conference.

Lee actually smiles at the suggestion, and cocks his head to the side as he says, "Sure. What do you want to see? We could start with Buckingham Palace. There's probably a tour starting soon." He nods towards the impressive grounds.

"Nah," Kevin says. "That's one place I've already been." He almost got into a lot of trouble, in fact. Apparently it's considered rude to sneak out of a state dinner and go exploring.

"Fine," Lee mutters, giving Kevin a look that says he suspects there's more story there. "Then where do you want to go?"

"You choose," Kevin says with a grin. "I just have one request."

"What's that?" Lee asks, moving towards the nearest path as Kevin falls into step beside him.

"Wherever we go? I'd really like to ride a double decker bus to get there."


	2. The Times They Are a Changin'

The church is quiet, but vast in a way that gets under Kevin's skin. There's more than one reason he doesn't spend much time in churches, and the vaulted ceilings and intricate stonework all leave him feeling even more unsettled than the fact that he's not allowed to turn around and _look_ at the man sitting behind him.

Haddy Kemp. Extremist turned informant. At least he's finally fallen quiet in a way that tells Kevin they're probably done here.

Kevin's eyes are locked straight ahead on the altar, so he startles when a priest steps close beside his pew and says, "He's gone."

Kevin raises his eyes, a low "Thank you, Father—" already halfway past his lips, and stops himself short when he sees who this particular priest actually is.

" _Lee_ ," he hisses in surprise. His eyes widen as he takes in the cassock, the hat… He's never had a thing for priests, but that getup on Lee is putting some seriously inappropriate thoughts in his head. As if he wasn't already desperate enough to corrupt the man.

"Is everything set?" Lee asks, and for a moment Kevin can't figure out what he's asking.

It's not Kevin's fault he's distracted at the moment.

Then the assignment clicks back to the forefront in his thoughts, and he stands from the pew.

"Yes," he says, as Lee guides him along the aisle at a sedate pace. "Tomorrow at the Emmeramsmühle in Bogenhausen. At ten o'clock."

"Good," Lee says. "Billy's got the plane all arranged."

He looks like he might say more, but a woman approaches then and effectively interrupts the conversation. She's a total knockout, Kevin has to admit. She speaks in German, asking Lee to hear her confession, and if Kevin had to go by the look on the agent's face, he'd guess Lee was actually considering it.

"Ein Moment, bitte, mein Kind," Lee murmurs gently. The woman retreats towards the front of the church, and Kevin and Lee both watch her go.

"Careful," Kevin murmurs. "She looks like trouble."

"I wouldn't actually take her confession," Lee says, locking Kevin with wide, innocent eyes.

Kevin's eyebrows rise high on his forehead, and the look he offers in return is completely skeptical.

Lee's expression twists into something dry and sardonic.

"It might be pretty interesting."

"It might," Kevin agrees, and turns to leave the church.


	3. Double Agent

The flames are already leaping closer, from barrel to barrel, and Kevin can feel the heat tightening around them as his eyes take in the words on the surrounding containers.

' _Fuel Oil_ ,' they say. And, ' _Flammable_.'

Awesome.

But Kevin's not going to panic. Even if his right wrist is cuffed to this heavy-ass piece of equipment. Even if Lee is stuck right beside him, close enough that Kevin could probably feel his body heat if there weren't an actual _fire_ closing in on them.

"Lee, I want you to know I'm not worried," Kevin says. Sweat slicks his skin, glues his hair to the back of his neck. "Because I know you're a highly trained professional, and I'm sure you have some terrific plan to get us out of this." He drags his eyes from the flaming canisters and tries to keep a confident look on his face as he adds, "Don't you?"

"Not at the moment," Lee says. He's fidgeting uselessly within the constraints of the handcuffs that encircle both his wrists.

"No plan?" Kevin says as the fire spreads wider.

"No." There's sweat on Lee's face and something a little too much like panic in his eyes.

"Fuck," says Kevin, and twists uselessly against the metal holding him in place.

It's too bad the piece of equipment they're attached to is so damn heavy. Even with their combined efforts, there's no way they're going to be able to move it. Hell, Kevin's pretty sure he could drive Lee's car straight into it and the thing would barely budge.

"Can you get your arm out?" Lee asks.

Sure. Because Kevin hasn't been trying ever since that pyromaniac asshole locked him here in the first place.

"Right," Lee grumbles. "Of course not. Damn it. We could uh…"

But a thought is trying to form in Kevin's head—a spark of inspiration, and if he can just pin it down—

"Take your belt off," he says the second the idea solidifies. Lee stares at him blankly, and Kevin repeats, "Lee, take your belt off. Your. Fuck, your _belt_ , take it off." Lee glances down at his belt, then back at Kevin, confused exasperation curling his mouth into a frown.

"Lee, I'm serious, would you just take it off already?"

"I'm not sure I want to hear this right now."

"Just take—"

"What the hell are you—"

" _Please_ ," Kevin all but shouts. That shuts Lee up for a moment at least, and Kevin explains, "I think I can use the little metal prong in your belt buckle to undo the cuffs. It worked on Sam's bike last week."

It's a good plan, at least if he can do it _now_. The fire is really creeping too close for comfort.

"Why can't you use your own belt?" Lee asks, still looking suspicious.

"Oh my _god_ ," Kevin groans, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, then casts a pointed look down at his current ensemble. Gray t-shirt. White tennis shoes. His favorite jeans, which just happen to be tight in all the right places and for which he is damn well _not_ wearing a belt.

"Oh," Lee says.

"Please?" Kevin repeats more quietly.

"All right," Lee sighs, and shifts closer. "Come on."

" _I_ have to take it?" Kevin blinks. And of course he does, Lee's hands are both out of commission, Kevin's the one with the ability to maneuver.

"Yes," Lee answers, unnecessarily at this point. " _You_ have to take it."

"Right. Sorry. I'll… just take it off, then."

"Hurry," Lee says as Kevin reaches for the buckle. "Come on, come on, hurry— _Ah_!" The death glare he levels at Kevin is completely unwarranted—Kevin's _trying_ to be gentle with the goods, for god's sake, but time is becoming a desperate factor here

"Sorry," he says anyway, and then finally manages to pull the belt free. The metal of the buckle is hot in his hands, and he works as quickly as he can. It's difficult—his hands are slippery with sweat and the metal is difficult to get a proper hold of—but the trick works and a second later he's free.

"Get these off of me," says Lee, as Kevin turns and goes to work on the first cuff.


	4. The Legend of Das Geisterschloss

"Just like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid my _ass_ ," Kevin snorts.

He's thoroughly drenched, sitting uncomfortably on a tree root so he can squeeze what feels like a gallon of water out of his shoes and socks, and behind him he hears the wet, squelching sound of Lee doing the same.

He keeps his back stubbornly turned as he puts his sodden socks back on his feet and slips the shoes on with a grimace. He knows Lee is sopping wet behind him, and if he catches a glimpse he'll be too distracted to stay annoyed.

"I guess we should be glad we got away," Kevin finally mutters, standing in a motion that squeaks with lingering moisture.

"Yeah," Lee says, voice low and cranky. "But 'away' is _all_ we got. Those two goons at the castle are long gone by now, and we still don't know who they were or why they were waiting for us."

"Don't be a pessimist," Kevin says, his own spirits brightening with the reassurance. He drags his shirt off as he talks, muffling his voice for a moment in the wet fabric. "We've got our clues, don't we? We've got four letters of the alphabet and more to find. That's somewhere to start, at least."

But Lee doesn't respond.

When Kevin turns around, he finds Lee staring. Not just looking, but gaping openly. Lee's eyes have drifted so far south he probably can't even see the smug look that momentarily spreads across Kevin's features.

Kevin doesn't mind the view himself: Lee's blue shirt is completely unbuttoned, fabric clinging to his body like only thin, drenched material can do.

"C'mere," Kevin says, and the word draws Lee's eyes belatedly to his face.

"What's wrong?" Lee asks, obeying instinctively and taking a step closer to Kevin.

"Nothing's wrong," Kevin assures, tossing his shirt carelessly aside. "Come on, closer than that." He grabs Lee by the fabric gaping at his chest, once the agent is in easy reach, and tugs him forward until his intentions are unmistakable.

Instead of looking freaked, Lee just looks exasperated, and his eyes narrow darkly as he says, "Kevin, we don't have time for this."

"We have _just_ enough time for this," Kevin retorts. There's no mischief in his eyes right now. Just heat and hope and stubborn intent.

The exasperation melts from Lee's face, and he leans closer. Kevin's eyes drift shut at the tentative press of Lee's lips, and Kevin's hands slide higher, palms pressing flat against Lee's chest before sliding into his hair. Lee's hands settle at Kevin's hips—almost like an afterthought—and when one of them slides to the small of Kevin's back, Kevin makes a pleased sound low in his throat.

The kiss starts chaste, and it stays that way. They don't have time to get distracted. When Lee pulls back, Kevin doesn't try to chase him.

"Come on," Lee says, already buttoning his shirt. "Let's get back to the hotel. I want a change of clothes, and then I think we need to have another look at that café."


	5. Charity Begins at Home

They stand on the hillside long after the other agents have taken the perpetrator and cleared out. The last of the fire has burned down, and if Kevin didn't already know what they were looking at, he's not sure he'd be able to decipher the twisted mess of metal below them in the ravine.

"I'm sorry about your car," Kevin says, finally tearing his eyes from the sight and turning his entire attention on Lee. "I know how much you loved that thing."

He knows how pissed off _he_ would be if some asshole stole his favorite bike and dropped it off a cliff.

But for all that Lee looks wrecked and furious and somehow, simultaneously, completely wrung out, the agent just shakes his head.

"You don't _love_ a car, Kevin," he says tiredly, still squinting down at the wreckage. "But you sure do get attached."

Kevin doesn't care _what_ Billy had to say on the subject before his departure—something about Lee being due for another one anyway—it's still tragic to see a piece of equipment like that taken out before its time.

He rests a hand at the small of Lee's back, sympathetic and reassuring, and is almost surprised when Lee simply leans silently into the touch. The quiet is unbroken for long moments, until Kevin can't take it anymore.

"I could buy you another one," he says. Considering his resources, it would be a fairly minimal expense.

Lee laughs in response to the offer, startled and bright. It's not exactly what Kevin is expecting, but he doesn't mind the way the smile lingers on Lee's face as he turns and arches his eyebrows.

"You can't be serious."

"Completely," Kevin insists.

"You're insane," Lee says.

"No," Kevin corrects him. "I'm rich. There's a difference." At least he hopes there is. He'll be the first to admit that some days he's not so sure.

Lee watches him with an indecipherable half smile for a long, considering minute and finally shakes his head.

"Thanks," Lee says. "But that would be cheating. A car like that… it'd be disrespectful to just up and replace it."

Kevin can concede that point easily enough.

"What will you do?" he asks.

Lee shrugs with a phony nonchalance and finally turns his back on the ravine.

"I'll figure something out," he says. "Maybe Billy was right. Maybe it's time for something new."

When they reach the street there's an agency vehicle waiting for them, empty and ready. Kevin blinks in surprise for a moment, then realizes that of course the car they actually drove out here is gone. Bright and red and obviously evidence, never mind the dead body in the trunk.

"Hey," Lee says, interrupting his thoughts.

Kevin turns, and doesn't even have a chance to ask what's up before Lee is tugging him in by the lapels and ducking the short distance to kiss him. Kevin gets with the program fast, of course. His fingers slide through Lee's hair, probably making a mess of the carefully ordered strands, and he doesn't plan on apologizing.

The kiss ends too quickly, but Kevin doesn't try to hold on longer when Lee steps back. He's too busy grinning like an idiot.

"What was that for?" he asks.

Lee shrugs, and again the nonchalance is forced and unconvincing. His eyes are lit with mischief, though, and the smug little smile tugging at one corner of his mouth looks genuine.

"Consider it a thank you," Lee says.

"For what?" Kevin asks. "The car I'm _not_ buying you?"

Lee's smile spreads wider across his face and he says, "It's the thought that counts." He climbs into the driver's seat before Kevin can respond, settling behind the wheel and doing his best to look impatient.

Kevin shakes his head, torn between disbelief and amusement and the impossibly strong urge to get in the car and put his hands all over Lee.

But he's pretty sure that wouldn't go over well, and he doesn't want to ruin the moment. So when he slides into the passenger seat, Kevin buckles in like a good boy and stays firmly on his own side of the gear shift.

"Let's get out of here," he says, tossing one last glance over his shoulder—towards the sandy edge of the cliff, beyond which lie the mangled silver remains of Lee's car.

Lee guns the engine and pulls them out onto the road.

 

\- — - — - —- — -

It's past nightfall, dark and calm, when a tapping at the window of his study startles Kevin from his work.

He rolls his eyes as he sets his pen and file folder aside, and stands from his desk with a stiffness that tells him he's been going through reports for at least an hour too long. He crosses the room in quick strides, unlocking and opening the tall slim window beside the couch.

Lee hops through a moment later, agile and easy, and the grin on his face is all boyish excitement.

"Couldn't you use the doorbell like a normal person?" Kevin mutters, doing a poor job of masking his amusement.

"Where's the fun in that?" Lee asks. "Besides, I didn't want to wake anyone. I saw your light on."

"Not that I mind," Kevin says lightly. "But what are you doing here at this hour?" It's not _that_ late, but it's late enough that normal people aren't making house calls.

But instead of looking sheepish, Lee's expressions goes even brighter, and when he holds up a shiny new car key Kevin understands why.

"That's fantastic, man!" Kevin says. "How's she handle?"

"Pulls the road right up and corners like a track racer," Lee brags. For a moment he looks proud and ecstatic, then the expression smudges around the edges into something a little more sheepish. "Anyway, I was testing her out, and I sort of ended up over here."

Lee looks a little lost now, like he's just realizing he's not even sure what he's doing here, and Kevin considers for all of an instant before asking, "How about a ride?"

The light of excitement instantly rekindles in Lee's eyes, and he says, "Are you sure? I know it's late…"

"It's fine," says Kevin. "Let me just check in on Sam." Everyone is long asleep by now, and Kevin knows Mom and Dad won't be going anywhere. This won't be the first time he's taken off without warning in the middle of the night.

"Great," says Lee as he watches Kevin lock the window, then follows him to the door.


	6. Brunettes Are In

Kevin already has his marching orders. He's got no reason to still be here, beyond an urge to see Lee before he takes that closet-cum-elevator back up to street level and goes about his business.

Kevin doesn't usually get called in to powwow with Billy one-on-one, and he's got a feeling Billy kept Lee out of the loop deliberately.

But the urge to see Lee is really _all_ the motivation Kevin needs to stick around a few extra minutes, which means he's just around the corner to overhear when boss and agent emerge into the hall. They're in the middle of a heated discussion, and Kevin finds himself smirking—looks like his assumptions regarding Lee's absence in that meeting were spot-on.

"It's just a simple courier assignment," Billy explains in his most exasperated tone.

"Yeah," Lee counters. "A simple _midlevel_ courier assignment. Kevin is _not_ ready for that."

Kevin rolls his eyes and holds his tongue even as the accompanying footsteps carry closer.

"All he has to do is exactly as he's told," Billy says.

"Kevin _never_ does exactly what he's told."

Kevin has to admit Lee's got a point with that one. He uncrosses his arms and stuffs his hands in his pockets, slouching even more lazily against the wall as the two men pass without noticing him.

"Look," Billy says, coming to a stop and turning a piercing stare at Lee. "I know you worry about him. I know you feel responsible for bringing him in. But this one's out of your hands. I need you to stand back and let people do their jobs."

Lee looks riled enough to protest, but apparently decides it's not worth fighting a losing battle. He gives a heavy sigh instead of renewing his arguments, eyes slipping closed for just a moment as he shakes his head unhappily.

"Fine," Lee says, resignation heavy in his voice. "But he'd better have backup."

"He will," Billy promises. "It's taken care of."

And without a goodbye or dismissal, Billy turns and continues down the corridor, leaving Lee standing awkwardly in his wake.

"I _sometimes_ do what I'm told," Kevin says. He grins when the words make Lee jump a foot and a half in the air.

"Kevin!" Lee gapes, spinning sharply to face him. "You're—… How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," says Kevin. ' _Long enough_ ,' says the mischievous glint in his eyes. Then, before Lee has a chance to recover, "You doing anything important right now?"

"I…" Lee blinks. "Not particularly, no."

"Good," says Kevin. "Let's go get some lunch."

"Kevin, it's eight o'clock at night."

"Dinner, then," Kevin amends. "Come on, I'm buying." And with a determination Lee can't hope to dissuade, Kevin takes him by the arm and leads the way.


	7. Our Man in Tegernsee

It's a quiet enough moment—just Kevin and this dude Harry and the late, late hour dampening the air around them. Kevin is, quite frankly, shocked Lee turned in and left him unchaperoned, considering the half-drunk source of information before him.

Harry looks like hell, but he also looks like a man who's used to spending late nights listing to the side. And the inebriated spy smiles amiably enough when Kevin folds himself into the nearest chair.

It's cool out here now that the sun has been gone for hours, and Kevin crosses his arms in front of his chest to ward off the chill.

"So you and Lee go way back," Kevin observes.

"That we do," Harry agrees amiably. "He's a good man to have at your back. The best."

Kevin tries not to sound like a jealous boyfriend when he says, "You seem… pretty close." He thinks he pulls off a casually disinterested, mostly neutral tone—at least, he thinks so until Harry cocks his head to the side and lets out a quick bark of laughter.

The laughter cuts quickly short, but Harry's considering look remains.

"Close," Harry parrots, amusement flashing in his eyes. "Yes, quite close. But not in the way you may be implying."

Kevin blushes despite himself, suddenly glad for the surrounding night. _Smoothe_ , he thinks, annoyed with himself. He's usually more suave than this. Really, he is.

"I was just curious," he hedges noncommittally.

"Relax," Harry laughs. "I'm not offended."

Kevin feels relief flood through him—not just at the reassurance that he hasn't overstepped, but also at the knowledge settling in, that Harry isn't competition or a threat or whatever the hell it is Kevin was so worried about a moment ago.

"Sorry," Kevin still says, a self-deprecating smile twisting his features. "I guess it was rude of me to jump to conclusions."

"Please," Harry scoffs. "Just between us? That is _not_ a proposition I would turn down."

"Really?" Kevin blinks in surprise. He shuts down the jealous part of his brain that wants to kick up a fresh fit. From the sleepy grin spreading across Harry's face, Kevin knows this time he's managed a more convincing mask of neutrality.

"Are you kidding me?" Harry says. "Christ, _look_ at him sometime." Harry shrugs then, casual and unperturbed. "But Lee's wired as straight as they come. Believe me, I've checked."

Again Kevin has to stomp down an irrational surge of jealousy. Isn't Harry sitting here telling him nothing's ever happened? What has Kevin got to worry about?

"Still," Harry says, looking suddenly wistful. "There was this one time…" Kevin's gut clenches, and he's pretty sure he doesn't want to hear this, but somehow he keeps his mouth shut as Harry continues, "The woman was _beautiful_. A complete knockout. And I guess maybe we were both pretty drunk that night, because instead of hitting me in the face for suggesting it… he said we could share."

Kevin doesn't want to know more. There's an intimate heat in Harry's eyes as he considers the memory, and Kevin Doesn't Want to Know.

So he stands in a rush, fuck being polite, and says, "It's late. I think I'm gonna crash."

Harry gives him a rueful look—a little too sober, suddenly, and a little too knowing.

"Pleasant dreams," Harry says to Kevin's retreating back.

Kevin navigates the villa deftly despite the darkness, and quickly arrives at the door to the guest room. He and Lee are sharing the space, twin beds positioned against opposite walls, and Kevin closes and locks the door behind him.

He crosses to Lee's bed instead of his own, and sits gingerly on the edge of the mattress.

Lee opens his eyes instantly—best spy in the whole damn world, of _course_ he does, probably woke up the second Kevin opened the door.

"Kevin, what is it?" Lee whispers, concerned expression barely visible in the dark room.

"Nothing," Kevin says. Then, hesitating only an instant longer, he leans down and kisses Lee. He braces one hand against the mattress, cups Lee's jaw with his other hand, and nearly groans in relief when Lee's lips instantly part in invitation.

Kevin is being ridiculous. He knows that. But he still plunders every ounce of reassurance he can take from the kiss. He still darts his tongue past Lee's lips, claims a deeper welcome, and hums a contented sound when Lee lets him—when Lee's hand slides up his arm and grasps at his sleeve, and hold on tight for the duration of the kiss.

He looks confused when Kevin pulls away.

"This isn't really the time _or_ the place, Kevin," he says cautiously.

"I know," Kevin says with a sheepish smile, sitting up and taking his hand back. "Sorry."

Lee watches Kevin's retreat before sitting up himself.

"Are you going to tell me what that was all about?"

"What, suddenly I need a _reason_ to throw myself at you?"

Lee laughs at that, a low, startled sound. The laughter cuts off quickly, quiet concern returning to take its place.

"Seriously," Lee murmurs. "Are you all right?"

Kevin gives his most distracting smile, genuine enough at the moment, and says, "Completely."

He briefly considers telling Lee to scoot over and make room. He wants nothing more right now than to curl into bed beside him and wrap himself around Lee until morning.

But the certainty that Lee will say no stays his tongue. First, because this intimacy between them feels somehow new and tenuous. For all that Kevin has been pushing—tapping away at Lee's defenses for well over a year now—this is new ground between them. He doesn't want to push Lee away by trying to claim too much, too fast.

Second, and by far the more practical problem, is that these guest beds are barely large enough to accommodate one of them, never mind both. Even if Lee said yes, they would spend the night sleepless and miserable.

Which isn't really an option. They're here on business, and tomorrow needs to see them rested and sharp.

"Good night, Lee," Kevin finally says, standing reluctantly and crossing to his own bed. He plans to be unconscious the second his head hits the pillow, and tomorrow they'll see about those counterfeiters.


	8. Affair at Bromfield Hall

"How do you get yourself into these situations?" Lee bristles, storming down a London sidewalk so fast Kevin can barely keep up.

"With great skill and precision," Kevin retorts tiredly. "Would you _please_ slow down?"

Lee doesn't slow down, but he does turn to glare at Kevin—Lee's hands are jammed so deeply in his pockets, Kevin is surprised he doesn't hear fabric tearing.

"Kevin, seriously. Every single time. I turn my back for _five minutes_ and—"

"Woah, hey now. Easy. It's not every time. I'll have you know this is only the second international sex scandal I've been involved in, and this time it's nothing but a misunderstanding."

" _This_ time!" Lee barks in wild disbelief. He returns his rage-filled focus to the pavement ahead of him. "Honestly, Kevin, how can you have this much trouble keeping it in your pants?"

"I _did_ keep it in my pants!" Kevin protests. "Lee, come on, even if Lord Bromfield were my type—"

"Please stop talking."

"Even if he were my type," Kevin persists. "I didn't sleep with him. I didn't even _flirt_ with him! I chatted with him in a _public park_ , nothing could possibly have happened!"

He follows Lee around a corner, into a familiar building he's only half paying attention to and thus takes an extra moment to realize is their hotel.

"Funny how the press seems to have unanimously decided otherwise. And the photo they keep running doesn't particularly help your case."

"He tripped! What was I supposed to do, let him land on his face?" Okay, heartless as it may be to consider, in retrospect that might have been the wiser choice. Considering his position now, Kevin's new acquaintance might even have approved of the decision.

"Is a little discretion too much to ask?" Lee counters darkly, moving up an elegant stairway. There's anger in every step, a storm in his posture—and Kevin gets that he stepped in an inconvenient pile of shit with this one, but he doesn't think he deserves this raging third degree.

"You're being unreasonable," Kevin argues, following close on Lee's heels up one flight, two, three in a rush that would leave him winded if he weren't in damn good shape.

"Stop talking, Kevin," Lee says. Repeating the demand, like repetition might increase the nonexistent chance that Kevin will actually comply.

"Look, I'm _sorry_." Kevin's quick enough to grab the door when Lee darts through it from the fifth floor landing, and follows his stormy pace down the hall to Lee's room. "I know you're trying to keep a low profile, and I blew it. I'm sorry I made things more complicated. But how could I possibly have seen this coming?"

Lee turns his key in the lock and shoves the door open, tries to duck through it without letting Kevin inside.

 _Like hell_ , Kevin thinks, and shoulders through.

"God damnit, Kevin—"

"You can't just—

"Shut _up_ ," Lee growls, and pushes Kevin back against the door.

Kevin doesn't even get a chance to voice an inarticulate ' _huh_?' before Lee is on him, fingers digging into the side of Kevin's face, mouth hot and fierce against Kevin's own. Kevin breathes a startled sound and parts his lips. He reaches for Lee without conscious thought, dragging him closer until there's nothing but the unyielding door behind him and Lee's heat against his chest.

When Lee tries to retreat, Kevin pulls him stubbornly back in, and for a moment Lee lets him get away with that.

The second time Lee pulls back, he holds Kevin at bay, hands sliding to grip Kevin's upper arms and keep him at a short distance.

Lee's eyes are wide, like he's not sure what he just did and is having a hard time catching up. Kevin's breath comes even but fast as he looks up into Lee's eyes. He's a little lost himself, now that he thinks about it. How did he go from getting chewed out at high volume to getting kissed instead?

Lee's moods can be a little temperamental, but they're usually not _this_ mercurial, and Kevin blinks as he tries to logic his way through the unexpected maze.

His jaw drops when it hits him. Christ, for someone who spent so long in complete denial—who _still_ hasn't quite come to terms with whatever the hell he and Kevin are to each other—Lee's sure got a jealous streak.

Kevin doesn't mind a little possessive behavior—not where Lee is concerned—but this is ridiculous.

"Are you done freaking out now?" Kevin asks, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

"I…" Lee says, still looking dazed.

"Because I promise nothing happened. I wouldn't do that to you." _Ever_ , he thinks. But now's not the time for that kind of promise—Lee looks off-balance enough already.

"That's not what—"

"Hey," Kevin says, reaching up with one hand to press silencing fingers to Lee's lips. "Relax. I'm just saying, you've got nothing to worry about." Lee's face colors with embarrassed heat, but he doesn't try to evade the touch or renew his denial. He doesn't back off, either, and his proximity is starting to do things to Kevin's blood flow.

"You know," Kevin says. He lets an inviting smile at curl one side of his mouth. "If we're done fighting, maybe we could go back to the kissing. That was just starting to get good." Lee's bed is mere feet away, and Kevin's pulse picks up at the thought of nudging Lee that direction—of all the things they could get up to the in the privacy of this room.

But instead of acknowledging Kevin's proposition, Lee takes an abrupt step back. He doesn't look sheepish as he drops his hands to the side—or as he meets Kevin's gaze from two short steps away.

"You should probably go," Lee says.

"You've got to be kidding me," Kevin grimaces, thumping his head back against the door.

"I need to call Billy," Lee says, genuine apology in his tone. "I'm already late checking in because of your media debacle." At least he doesn't still sound pissed off.

"Fine," Kevin mutters, pushing off from the door. They are here on business, after all. Business that Kevin himself just made more complicated, though he maintains adamantly that it's not his fault. "But you better not hide out in here all night." He reaches for the doorknob, and the metal is cool against his palm.

"Dinner later?" Lee says just as Kevin turns the knob.

Kevin throws a bright grin over his shoulder.

"Count me in."


	9. A Class Act

The door to Lee's cabin barely creaks as Kevin nudges it open, candle in hand.

"Lee?" he calls softly, stepping inside. "Lee, are you asleep?"

There's no answer from the silent bundle of blankets on the bed, and Kevin approaches with quiet steps, flickering light illuminating his path.

"Sorry to wake you up," Kevin says when he reaches the bed, then tugs at a corner of the bedding.

The blanket falls aside, and Kevin takes a startled step back, adrenaline kicking up into his blood.

"What the _fuck_?" he gasps too loudly, already taking another step back. His eyes are glued to the shape on the bed—the shape that is decidedly not Lee, what even _is_ that, some kind of mangled doll full of, is that _straw_ —?

Kevin startles again when his retreat bumps him back into something warm and solid that wasn't behind him a second ago.

He teeters unsteadily on his feet, but before he can raise a startled ruckus, a strong hand clamps over his mouth, an arm ghosting out around his waist and steadying him. Kevin is _definitely_ going to put up a fight, just as soon as he catches his bearings. Whoever this is will be sorry he tangled with Kevin Flynn—

"Shh, Kevin, it's me!" comes a low, familiar voice in his ear. The fight bleeds out of Flynn, and instantly he feels foolish. Of course it's Lee. It's obvious from the rumble of his voice, the clean, familiar smell of his skin, even the way his hand feels now, clamped tightly over Kevin's mouth—it's a position they've been in half a dozen times, at least.

"Okay?" Lee asks, lips brushing Flynn's ear. His other hand, the one resting low on Flynn's stomach—no reason for it now, not when Kevin obviously doesn't intend to put up a misguided fight—is suddenly very distracting.

"Mmhmm," Flynn hums in the affirmative. Then, when Lee takes his hand away, Kevin asks, "What is that?" He indicates the bed with a nod, and is sorry when the gesture makes Lee let go of him and step away, towards the subject of Kevin's inquiry.

"That," says Lee, "is a scarecrow. Nice touch, huh?"

"You think you're so clever," Flynn says, eyes narrowing.

"I _am_ clever," Lee retorts brightly, still keeping his voice low. "It's just a precaution against unwanted visitors. I was out checking the generator when I saw a light moving through my room." He looks momentarily confused then, and steps closer when he asks, "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I heard a strange noise outside," Flynn says with a shrug. "I thought I should warn you. But I guess you've got everything under control here, so um…" He feels a little silly, suddenly. Which would be fine, if he could figure out a way to beat a suave retreat.

"I could walk you back to your cabin," Lee suggests, taking pity on him.

"Sure," Flynn says.

When Lee follows him out the door with a hand at the small of his back, Flynn feels a little less silly, a little more content. Which lasts all of three seconds before a fierce explosion cuts through the night behind them. Kevin flies forward, knocked down by a booming blast of heat and sound, and he feels the thump of Lee landing in the dirt beside him.

"What the _hell_?" Kevin gasps, twisting in the grass to stare over his shoulder. Lee's cabin is a furnace of smoke and flame lighting the midnight sky. Another ten seconds, and they'd have been _in_ there. Christ, there'd be nothing left—

"Are you okay?" Lee's voice sounds muffled in Kevin's ringing ears, and Lee's hands are on him, helping him up, steadying him on his feet.

"Yeah," Flynn mutters. "Yeah, I'm fine. Are you— God, Lee, you're bleeding!"

"It's just a scratch," Lee says, touching his cheek just below the angry looking cut.

And then people are surrounding them. Billy and Francine, the other trainees. A couple of guys with fire extinguishers, who immediately start fighting a losing battle with the flames still licking up from the cabin.

As he's patted down and checked for injury, Flynn tries to catch Lee's eye and ask without words what their next move is.


	10. Playing Possum

"But Dad, you _hafta_ come! Grandma and Grandpa never make the campfire big enough." Sam's voice is plaintive as he clings to Kevin's arm. Over Sam's curly mop of hair, Kevin sees Mom roll her eyes.

"I will never understand the male instinct for camping," she says in a practiced tone of long-suffering patience.

"You'll have fun without me, kiddo," Kevin says, ruffling Sam's hair. "Just try to stay out of the poison oak this time."

He's only half paying attention to reassuring Sam. The bulk of his thoughts are on the empty halls of the agency—the abandoned corridors and vacant spaces where files and furniture and even the framed photos on the walls used to be. Kevin was there _yesterday_ , and everything was right where it belonged, which means somewhere in the last twenty-four hours, something has gone horribly wrong.

He's not that worried about the agency itself—fuck national security, anyway, that's someone else's job and there are people far more competent than him to handle it. What's gnawing at Kevin is the fact that he doesn't know where Lee is.

Lee wouldn't disappear on him without a goodbye—not willingly, not now—which sets unwelcome fear twisting low in Kevin's gut.

Kevin barely notices the doorbell, or the quiet sound of his father's steps and subsequent click of the door. He's too wrapped up in trying to keep from worrying Sam while his thoughts spin in a horrifying circle of what-ifs.

What if Lee is gone forever? What if he's hurt, or worse? What if he—

"Lee!" Sam's voice interrupts the morbid train of thought, jolting Kevin back to his living room.

Sam extricates from his vice grip on Kevin's arm and is off the couch before Kevin can react. Kevin's gaze jerks towards the door to the front hall, and god, yes, _there_. There's _Lee_ , standing in the doorframe, looking startled and hanging onto the doorjamb for balance—Sam's arms cling to him in a fierce hug, and for a moment Lee looks like he's not sure how to respond.

Kevin is pretty sure he should say something in greeting here, but relief has locked his voice in his throat and all he can do is stare.

Lee overcomes his uncertainty a bare second later, leaning abruptly down and lifting Sam into his arms. Sam has hit a growth spurt since his birthday, but still Lee lifts him easily, face cracking in an unguarded smile as Sam wraps around him in a fierce hug—probably choking Lee, considering that even from the couch Kevin can see how tightly Sam's small arms have wrapped around Lee's neck.

Kevin finally manages to stand and offer a greeting smile. He ignores his mother's worried stare and crosses the room—sets a hand on Lee's arm and feels instantly reassured at the warmth beneath his palm.

Lee's eyes are knowing when they find Kevin's, and a moment later he sets Sam down.

"Why don't you go finish packing, kiddo?" Kevin says, ruffling Sam's hair. "I need to talk to Lee for a second."

Sam's expression is far more skeptical than a six-year-old should be able to convey, but he dashes across the room, back to the couch where rucksacks and duffels and a cooler full of hotdogs and marshmallows await final inspection.

Kevin keeps his voice low when he says, "I'm glad you're all right. You had me seriously freaking out."

"I'm sorry," Lee says, and it's only belatedly that Kevin remembers to take his hand back from the man's arm. "I was away on a classified mission. Have you been to the agency?"

"That's why I was freaking out," Kevin says dryly. "Everything is gone. You didn't answer at your apartment, and I didn't know how else to contact you."

"Have you talked to Billy? Or anyone else?"

"No. I haven't seen a single agent besides you. Lee, what's going on?"

"It's Operation Possum," Lee says, which clarifies absolutely nothing. "I'll explain later. Right now I need your help."

"Of course," Kevin says, offering a determined nod. "You got it. What can I do?"

"Do you bowl?"

"I… What?"

"Do you bowl?" Lee repeats, as though Kevin is the one being slow and Lee is making the slightest hint of sense.

"Of course I bowl," Kevin hisses. "Lee, what the hell—?"

"Good," Lee interrupts. "Get your bowling things together, and let's go."

"What, _now_?"

Lee blinks at him and simply says, "Of course now." Then he's moving—heading for the door, barely taking the time to look over his shoulder and say, "I'm parked around the corner."


	11. The Three Faces of Emily

"Alan, relax," Kevin says, tucking the phone more securely against his shoulder. He waves at Sam, who's already disappearing out the door with an enormous inner tube hefted in his arms. The thing's almost bigger than he is, Kevin notes with a wry grin. Mom and Dad are a few less-hurried steps behind him, and a moment later the front door bangs closed in their wake.

"Promise you won't miss the meeting today," Alan presses, and Kevin almost wishes the man didn't know him so well. Working with his best friend is great, Kevin won't deny that for a second, but Alan knows him well enough to read the signs when Kevin's considering playing hooky.

There's no wiggle room in Alan's voice, either. Kevin knows he won't get away with hedging, which means he doesn't get to dodge the investor meeting to bury himself in his office beneath the arcade—no shirking the real world in favor of his new game idea for the Grid.

Kevin heaves a sigh, extra theatrical for Alan's benefit, and finally says, "I promise I won't miss the meeting today."

"Thank you." Kevin can hear the relief in his friend's tone. He hangs up without further comment, confident Alan won't take offense, and stretches more of the morning stiffness from his limbs. He's still in the sweatpants and t-shirt he slept in, still barefoot as he pads toward the kitchen and the freshly brewed pot of coffee.

" _Jesus Christ_!" he curses at the sight of someone rooting around in his fridge—someone in a very nice suit, his brain supplies an instant before Lee's smug smile appears from behind the refrigerator door. "What are you doing here?" Kevin asks, willing his pulse calm as he reaches for a mug in the cupboard above the toaster.

"Good morning," Lee says, grinning wider. "Have you got any half-and-half?"

"No. I don't put that shit in my coffee. What the hell, man?"

"Coffee break," Lee offers, unhelpful and far too pleased with himself—far too perky for this early in the morning, as far as Kevin is concerned. "I like my coffee black, just… not _this_ black."

Kevin rolls his eyes and says, "Try the milk. It's probably better for you."

"Milk," Lee echoes, skeptical. But he grabs the milk and carries it to the counter anyway, popping the cap off to pour a conservative portion into his mug. He doesn't bother re-capping the milk as he settles onto one of the stools beside the counter.

"Let's try this again," Kevin says. He pauses long enough to pour himself a generous mug-full of coffee, takes a sip and savors the way his senses feel instantly more awake. He finds Lee watching him with an unexpectedly rapt expression when he opens his eyes, and it takes Kevin a moment to finish, "What are you doing in my kitchen at seven in the morning?"

"I need you," Lee says.

That draws Kevin up short. He pauses with his mug halfway to his lips, one eyebrow arching high.

"Come again?" he says, taking a moment to set his mug down on the countertop.

"I need you," Lee repeats, that same strange look on his face. "I came to ask you out."

Kevin laughs—he doesn't mean to, but he can't help it—a quick exhale of startled sound before he manages to rein the reaction in. Lee doesn't flinch beneath Kevin's pointed look, though. He doesn't look as though he wants to retreat when Kevin closes in on him with purposeful, measured steps.

"You mean like on a date," Kevin surmises. "Not that I'm complaining or anything, but… Hasn't that ship sort of sailed?" He leans in closer—close enough to catch the glint that might just be amusement in Lee's eyes—and sets a hand on Lee's thigh.

"It's not that kind of date," Lee says, closing his fingers around Kevin's wrist and stopping his hand from inching higher.

"Work, then," Kevin says, but doesn't take his hand back.

"Strictly business," Lee agrees.

He stands abruptly then, maneuvering flawlessly out from where Kevin had him penned in against the counter. "I'll pick you up at eight. Wear something classy."

He's gone between one blink and the next, quick and subtle like the master spy he is, and Kevin shakes his head.

"Something classy, he says," Kevin mutters.

He picks up his coffee mug, takes a sip, and wanders out of the kitchen still shaking his head.


	12. Ship of Spies

The arcade is as empty as always when Kevin steps through the concealed door, back out among the game machines that fill the main room. At least, it's supposed to be empty, and Kevin feels a brief moment of panic when a figure moves in the shadows, approaching at an unhurried pace.

Even Alan doesn't know the way into Kevin's secret lab, but whoever that is _must_ have seen where he came from just now—

The figure solidifies as it steps into the light, and Kevin's panic recedes when he realizes it's Lee.

Lee may well know all Kevin's secrets already—he is a spy after all—and anyway, Lee is different. Secrets don't seem to matter so much when Lee is in the room. Besides, Kevin's already told him about the Grid. Whether or not Lee believes him is a different question, but still. He _knows_ , and has never pressed Kevin for more.

Kevin's not sure precisely when he came to trust Lee so completely, but it might have been the first moment Lee set foot in this arcade.

Lee smiles at him now, though it's a cautious expression.

"You left in a hurry after the debriefing," he says. "Was the honeymoon really that bad?"

Kevin chuckles at the question, shakes his head in fond disbelief.

"It could've been better," he says. "Traditionally, a guy doesn't get shot at on his honeymoon. And really, Lee, as fake weddings go? That one had unforgivable décor."

Lee laughs, and Kevin nudges him with an elbow, donning a wry smile. He's trying not to think too hard about the ceremony, actually. Or about the kiss—the only kiss Kevin _got_ on that whole ridiculous mission, which is just sad considering they were on a honeymoon cruise.

He's not thinking about those things, because they twist his chest up a little too tightly, and Kevin's not one for introspection when he can avoid it.

"Come on upstairs," he says, clapping Lee on the shoulder. "I've got a couple beers in the fridge, and at least one has your name on it."

 

\- — - — - — - — -

Kevin knows most people hate this couch. It's too low to the ground to sit on properly. Ideal for sprawling, napping, perching, but not to sit down with any dignity. He thinks it speaks to just how comfortable Lee has gotten in his presence that the agent tosses his suit jacket aside and folds down onto the cushions without hesitation.

Kevin sits beside him. Closer than decorum dictates, but even if Kevin were one to worry about decorum—and lord knows he's not, Alan has bemoaned the fact often enough—he figures there's not much need for it where Lee is concerned. Not now, when they're… Christ, whatever it is they are to each other.

A momentary twinge of frustration, sharp and quick in Kevin's chest, at realizing he doesn't know. They're… close. They're exclusive, in some unspoken, slightly fucked-up way. They're friends and more, and Kevin is terrified sometimes at how desperately—not to mention how much more—he _wants_.

"You're awfully quiet," Lee says. And Kevin must have fallen silent longer than he thought, because suddenly Lee tilts his head back, downing a final swallow of beer and then setting the empty bottle on the floor beside the couch.

"Sorry," Kevin mutters, shaking his head. His own drink is barely touched, but he sets it aside anyway. He's suddenly not thirsty.

"What were you thinking about?" Lee asks. It's not an idle question. There's a serious look in his eyes, a somber glint bordering on concern, and he angles towards Kevin on the couch. One arm drapes over the back cushion, brushes against Kevin's shoulder when Kevin shifts.

He considers lying. Then he considers telling the truth. Neither option holds much appeal, and he leans forward, opting instead for door number three.

Lee's mouth is warm, pliant and welcoming, and Kevin loves how familiar this feels. He loves the way Lee's lips part for his tongue, and the way Lee angles into the kiss, inviting Kevin deeper. He loves the feel of Lee's fingers in his hair, and the way Lee tugs him closer—the rustle of fabric as Kevin moves onto his knees so he can press Lee more firmly back against the cushions.

Kevin's hands wander a little. Can't really be helped, he thinks, when Lee is _right there_ , his body heat just within reach beneath the crisp fabric of his shirt. His collar gapes open, casual with the late hour, and Kevin ghosts appreciative fingers over the bare skin of Lee's throat before letting his hand slip lower.

He keeps his touch above the belt. He has that much self restraint, at least. His hand settles low on Lee's stomach, and his thumb brushes back and forth, idle, smooth motion over the fabric of Lee's shirt.

He doesn't think much of it when Lee's hand covers his own—he doesn't think much beyond 'that feels good' at the heat of Lee's palm, at the firm way Lee's fingers curl around his wrist.

Then Lee urges him lower, and Kevin reevaluates in a hurry. Lee guides Kevin's hand down, past the stiff edge of his belt, and positions Kevin's hand over the unmistakable hard-on between his legs. Kevin's head spins, and he cups Lee through his finely tailored pants—gives a tentative squeeze—and thrills at the way Lee gasps into his mouth.

Oh fuck, this isn't actually happening. It can't possibly be this easy all of a sudden.

Kevin pulls back as far as he can bear to—which isn't far, and he doesn't take his hand back because fuck that—and forces his voice steady as he asks, "If I jerk you off, are you gonna freak out later?"

"Only one way to find out," Lee says. It's probably meant to sound like a light tease, but Lee's voice comes out breathy and uneven, and all his tone manages to convey is sharp arousal.

It's not a decisive 'no.' If they do this, Kevin knows there's a chance Lee _will_ freak out. He's certainly seen the pattern before.

But Lee is meeting his eyes steadily. There's purpose there alongside the heady heat in that look, and Kevin knows a green light when he sees one.

Once decided, Kevin moves with efficient confidence. He kisses Lee again, opening Lee's fly one-handed. Kevin's good with his hands, always has been, and his fingers are deft as he works—as he slips past straining fabric and wraps his fingers around Lee's dick.

" _Fuck_ ," Kevin breathes against Lee's mouth, overwhelmed by the feeling of flesh against his palm—the weight and heat of Lee's cock in his hand—and Kevin gives an experimental stroke.

Lee breaks sharply from the kiss, groaning curses and tossing his head back against the couch. His neck is bare and tempting, and Kevin leans down to press kisses into the skin, shameless and appreciative. He strokes again, then a third time, sets up a heady rhythm that makes Lee's thighs fall wider as Kevin slides his dick into the open air. Lee is making glorious sounds now, uncontrolled and eager, and Kevin grins against Lee's throat and works him slowly, teasingly, to what he knows—from the way Lee shouts his name if nothing else—is a truly fantastic orgasm.

He doesn't climb off of Lee as the agent slowly comes back down. He's practically in Lee's lap now, and he doesn't plan on moving any sooner than he has to. Too busy pressing kisses to Lee's throat, his jaw, the side of his face.

He thinks he could be content this way all night, and fuck sleep anyway.

Then Lee stirs against him. He shifts beneath Kevin's weight, tilting his face to capture Kevin's mouth mid-kiss, and this is even better—this is Lee back on planet Earth and _still_ not freaking out, and Kevin groans and buries himself in the kiss with greedy abandon.

When Lee's fingers go for his zipper, Kevin is so surprised he opens his eyes and curses.

"The _fuck_?" he gasps, disbelief and the unabated pulse of arousal twisting together in his blood.

But Lee just meets his eyes—just watches him with a smirking expression as he works Kevin's jeans open and slips one hand inside.

"Oh my _god_ ," Kevin groans, and collapses forward.

He's not coordinated enough for kissing now, and so he buries his face against Lee's shoulder and let's Lee take him apart.

 

\- — - — - — - — -

Lee doesn't freak out after.

He looks disheveled and a little uncertain. There are questions in his eyes, and a look that says he needs some time to himself now. He needs to work it all through on his own time, and Kevin doesn't really blame him.

But there's nothing in Lee's eyes that says he won't be _back_. The world obviously hasn't ended. Nothing's changed, nothing important, and there's something new already settling behind Lee's expression. Something comfortable and warm that says he maybe won't need as much time as he thought.

Kevin helps straighten Lee's rumpled clothes, and then leans up for a single quick kiss.

"See you this weekend maybe?" he asks, hopeful.

"Count on it," Lee says, and Kevin grins.


	13. Spiderweb

It's been three days since Spiderweb. Three days since Kevin brought a defecting general safely in to the agency, and more importantly, three days since Kevin proved he's no double agent.

Three days hasn't really been enough to curb the bitterness of knowing they suspected him in the first place. Masterful framing job or not, the knowledge stings.

Kevin's office at Encom is extravagantly spacious, a sprawling workspace at the very top of Encom tower. He'd like to pretend he's got important work to do tonight, and he does of course. There's always important work to do at Encom—sometimes Kevin wonders how he finds the time to do his job here, raise a son, work on the Grid _and_ play amateur spy on the side. But work or not, the honest fact is, tonight he's hiding.

Lee has never sought him out at Encom—too conspicuous, perhaps—and Kevin doesn't want to see Lee until he's put himself in a better frame of mind about the whole mess.

Which means when there's a soft tap at his door, Kevin isn't concerned. There's no one he'll turn away from his office. He already knows it's not Alan. Alan would just walk right in. But there are plenty of other people who might need his help or his attention or his signature on a document, and so Kevin says, "Come on in!" without asking who's at the door.

"Hey," comes a voice Kevin is definitely _not_ expecting. He startles, raising his eyes with a jerk, and sees Lee's head poking around the door and into his office.

"What are you doing here?" Kevin asks. It takes him a beat to realize how rude that sounds, and he tries again. "I mean, uh… Come on in. What's up?"

Lee steps into the office, but his movements are hesitant. The door clicks softly closed behind him as he crosses the wide, carpeted space. Kevin almost expects him to take one of the open chairs in front of the desk, but of course Lee circumvents them and rounds the desk instead.

"You've been pretty scarce the last couple days," Lee says. He strides right up to Kevin's chair and then perches on the edge of the desk beside him. Impressively, he manages to do it without brushing against any of the touch-sensitive screen components. "I just wanted to make sure everything's okay."

Lee's expression is light, but his eyes are clouded with unvoiced worry. He knows Kevin too well is the problem. Kevin's never made a habit of staying away from Lee. Certainly not for two straight days, when Lee is home where he belongs and not away committing acts of espionage around the globe.

"Sure," Kevin lies. "Of course everything's okay."

"Really."

Kevin willfully ignores the skepticism in Lee's voice, standing from his chair and stretching his tired shoulders.

"I bet you've never seen the city from the top of Encom tower," Kevin says, turning to face the window that takes up nearly the entire wall behind his desk.

"I have, actually," Lee says, pushing off of the desk and moving to stand beside him. Lee's arm brushes against Kevin's, and Lee's knowing eyes examine his profile. "So are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Kevin considers dodging the question. He considers telling Lee he's too busy for this conversation right now. He even considers making a break for it, though he's reasonably sure Lee would intercept him before he got anywhere near the door.

But all those choices would only postpone the inevitable, and so Kevin just shakes his head and takes a moment to gather his unhappy thoughts into a marginally more coherent order.

"You didn't really think the security breach was _me_ , did you?" he asks.

Kevin is still staring directly out the window, but in his peripheral vision he catches the way Lee's posture jerks straighter at the question. Kevin can't decide if the movement implies guilt or surprise.

"Of course not," Lee says in a rush. He turns toward Kevin, strong fingers closing around Kevin's elbow and urging him to meet Lee halfway. Kevin is helpless to resist that tug. He's helpless to dodge the piercing weight of Lee's eyes.

"Kevin." Lee's voice is fierce, graveled and intense. "I never believed you were the double agent. _Never_."

All Kevin wants is to shut up and accept the reassurance Lee is offering, but instead he hears his own voice ask, "Then why did you break into my house?"

"I was ordered to."

And that's all it takes. The intensity, the raw sincerity in Lee's eyes, the way his expression pleads with Kevin to understand. Kevin believes him, and relief twists sharp and giddy behind his ribs.

Another thought hits him quickly enough to ruin the moment, though.

"Billy's orders?"

"Yes," Lee says, looking uncomfortable. "But he was under orders, too."

Which, okay, yeah. That does make Kevin feel better. Whoever's higher up the chain of command than Billy, Kevin doesn't know them. He can handle some stranger with high security clearance thinking he's a danger to national security. It's his friends who should know better.

"Billy didn't believe it any more than I did," Lee insists, even though Kevin is done doubting.

"And Francine?" Kevin asks, though he says it with a smirk. The question eases the tension from Lee's shoulders, and a small answering smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"Francine doesn't think you're smart enough to be a double agent," he says.

Kevin laughs.

"Good," he says. "Easier to keep her guessing that way."

And then, because he's suddenly in a better mood than he's been in all week—and maybe because relief is still kicking his pulse high and his adrenaline hot—Kevin takes Lee's face between his hands and pulls him close for a kiss.

Lee gasps against Kevin's mouth, but he gets with the program quickly. Kevin slips his arms around Lee's neck as he parts his lips for the warm, familiar press of Lee's tongue.

He's wrapped as tightly around Lee as he can possibly achieve, gliddy and aware of the way Lee is holding on just as tightly. One of Lee's hands rests low on Kevin's hip. The other has slipped to the small of his back, slips even lower now to the curve of Kevin's ass.

Kevin doesn't even hear the door open. He hears the string of curses that follows, though. And the practically audible blush in Alan's voice when he transitions into more coherent language.

"Jesus, Kevin, don't you know how to lock a door?"

"Knew I forgot something," Kevin mutters, but he can't squash the grin twisting across his face even as he disentangles from Lee's hands. A quick glance tells him Lee is wearing his most neutral, diplomatic expression. But it also reveals the spark of unapologetic amusement in Lee's eyes, and Kevin elbows him in the ribs before turning again towards Alan.

"So. Alan. What can I do for you?"

"Nothing. It's… That is, it can wait. Until tomorrow. Or whenever. It's not important."

And then Alan flees so quickly Kevin half doubts he was even there in the first place.

"I should probably go," Lee says, laughter rumbling in his voice.

"Probably," Kevin concedes. But he's grinning again. He can't seem to help it.

Lee rounds the desk, moves towards the door still sitting ajar.

"Hey," Kevin says.

Lee stops with a hand on the knob and turns to look at him.

"Come by my place tonight. Around ten."

Lee smiles, nods, and then disappears into the hall.


	14. A Little Sex, a Little Scandal

It's late, which means Kevin is on his way to the Arcade. He hasn't had a lot of time for the Grid these past few days, what with all the (thankfully unsuccessful) attempts on his life.

Lee is clearly a bad influence.

But Lee also asked Kevin to stop over at his apartment, so that's where Kevin is: standing in the hallway, poised to knock. The door swings open before he gets the chance, revealing Lee standing on the other side. He must've been listening for Kevin's footsteps. Impatient.

"Come on in," Lee says, opening the door wider. He steps aside to let Kevin into the apartment. Kevin pauses on his way past, leaning in and up, so he can press a quick kiss to Lee's lips even before the door clicks shut behind him.

"What's up?" Kevin asks. Not that Lee needs any particular excuse to request his attention.

"I just wanted to tell you, even though it will be in the papers tomorrow. Senator Hoffmeir resigned."

"Good," Kevin says, but he doesn't smile. The senator brought it on himself. It was probably smartest to cut his losses and go to ground in the end.

"What happened to that whole Father of the Year thing?" Lee asks. The change in topic is abrupt, and Kevin blinks several times before his brain catches up and processes the question.

"Oh. After the fire, they put it off a couple days, then held the ceremony in a new location. Mom and Dad and Sam got there just in time to see me lose." He's smiling again now. His sheepish grin twists his mouth at the corners, and he shakes his head ruefully. "I guess my lifestyle was a little too hectic for the judges."

"That's too bad," Lee says.

"Yeah," Kevin agrees. His amusement fades a little, as more somber thoughts nudge towards the surface of his mind.

Fuck the Father of the Year competition. Kevin doesn't need some certificate from a total stranger telling him what caliber of parent he is. He tries to be a good dad. Hectic lifestyles aside, he knows he doesn't always do as well as he should. Sam is his most important priority. Kevin loves his son so much it hurts sometime, wants him safe and happy.

But Kevin's a man with other demands on his time and attention. And no matter how well he tries to balance everything, there's never enough time. He could go crazy some days, between Encom and espionage and all the things he wants to do on the Grid. The ISOs are a siren song of untapped information and potential, and staying away is harder and harder. There's so much noise in Kevin's head, so many things he wants to do, and never enough time to do them—

"Hey," Lee says, jolting Kevin out of his distracted headspace. "Everything all right?"

"Fine," Kevin says. Because on top of all those things, there's Lee. And Lee is warm and gorgeous and perfect. Just walking into the room, Lee always loosens the tension in Kevin's chest, quiets the noise in his head. He makes it possible to breathe again, if only for a little while, and Kevin is greedy enough to admit how badly he needs that.

"You got anywhere you need to be?" Lee asks. His voice is warm with suggestion. The glint in his eyes is an unmistakable invitation.

Kevin does have somewhere to be. He hasn't been on the Grid in over three days. Clu and Tron will be worried, not to mention swamped.

But Lee is smiling at him now, and ducking his head in a way that Kevin has never been able to resist. Kevin steps closer and slips his arms around Lee's waist.

"I think I can spare a few minutes," he says. It will be more than a few minutes. He'll probably stay the night. But that's fine. That's perfect.

Kevin Flynn is exactly where he needs to be.


	15. A Relative Situation

"How long has it been since you've seen your uncle?" Kevin asks. He keeps the question light despite the itch of curiosity in his chest. Lee never shares more than the most fleeting glimpses of his childhood or his family, and suddenly Kevin is in a position to learn more. He's about to meet Lee's uncle for himself, and he wants every scrap of information Lee will impart first.

"We had lunch in seventy-nine," Lee says without so much as pausing to consider.

"You're shitting me." 

"Nope."

Kevin stops right in the middle of the sidewalk and stares, giving Lee no choice but to pause beside him. Lee looks amused at Kevin's consternation, but this is ridiculous.

"Lee, that's _three years_. That's _terrible_ , man, even if you can't stand each other."

"I told you, we don't really stay in touch." Lee shrugs like it really doesn't matter, and starts walking again. "Besides, Colonel Robert Clayton is a very busy man."

Kevin, moving at Lee's side again, stops short. This time he grabs Lee's arm and yanks him to an equally abrupt stop.

"Did you say Colonel Robert Clayton? _The_ Colonel Robert Clayton? The guy who's being court martialed?"

"I thought you already knew that." Lee spares a glance for Kevin's hand where it still grips his arm, then raises his eyes to Kevin's, an exasperated expression on his face.

"No," Kevin says. "No, I definitely did _not_ know that. You've never told me his name, dude. It's always just 'the Colonel', or 'him', or…"

"Or something worse," Lee finishes. 

Kevin shrugs, point made, and finally lets go of Lee's arm. 

"Still," Lee says, quirking an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you didn't figure it out for yourself. You're resourceful. Not to mention rich. And isn't hacking into computer systems your favorite hobby?" 

"Sure," Kevin concedes easily enough. "But I'm not a total stalker. That's more your area." 

Lee's eyes narrow, but he doesn't try to argue the point. Why bother when they both know Kevin's right?

Kevin shakes his head and reminds himself that this is serious. He starts walking again, dry pavement scuffing beneath his feet and the crisp darkness of evening settling in around them. 

"He's really gonna need you now," Kevin observes, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Lee laughs, which is _not_ the response Kevin expects. The sound is more tired and angry than amused.

"He doesn't need anyone. Ever. Least of all me."

"Lee, he's family. Come on, he _raised_ you, didn't he? That's gotta mean something."

"He didn't have any choice. When my parents died, he was the only one left."

"He could've said no."

Lee laughs again, the same unhappy gust of air. Kevin hates that sound. He hates how easy it is to hear the jaded hurt running beneath it.

"No, he really couldn't," Lee mutters. "Not the Colonel. It was his duty. Duty's not something the man takes lightly." 

Kevin falls silent, trying to imagine what it must have been like. Not that the picture he'd painted in his mind was particularly happy to begin with, but the reality of it clearly weighs unpleasantly on Lee's memories. Kevin doesn't know how to help, or even what to say without risking offense. So he holds his tongue.

"It wasn't that bad," Lee says, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "How many kids get to pass room inspection twice a week and learn the proper way to spit shine shoes?"

Which sounds like hell, frankly, but Kevin still smiles at Lee's jesting tone. 

They lapse into silence for several steps, and the evening is quiet around them.

"Hey," Kevin says as they round a corner and their destination comes into view. "Does he know about us?"

"No, he doesn't" Lee says. "But he can, if you want." 

Then they're at the stairs, the door of the club, and Kevin follows Lee inside.


	16. Life of the Party

Kevin insists Francine let him drive. He tells her he'll be at her door by two. 

Francine looks incredulous—she knows his favored ride is a motorcycle—and Kevin grins wider at the way she can't seem to formulate a response.

"Thanks," she finally manages, "but I'll just meet you there."

Kevin could take umbrage at the fact that Francine doesn't like him much. He could be offended that she's perpetually incapable of taking him seriously. But then, if Kevin held a grudge against everyone who refused to take him seriously, he'd spend most of his time angry at almost every person he knows. 

"You can't drive to Private Party's offices in your own car, Francine. No one's going to believe you need this job if your car is worth three times the annual salary."

"You're exaggerating." She glares at him.

"But my point stands. Your ride is too posh. If you show up in that car, no one will believe you're applying for a position as a maid."

"No one will believe _you're_ applying for a position as a maid, no matter what we show up in." Francine's voice is smug. "Especially if someone recognizes you."

"Oh, they'll believe it." Kevin smirks. "I'm eccentric."

"You're insane."

"That too."

Francine purses her lips, watching him for a moment like she's weighing her chances of victory. Her jaw ticks with disapproval, but finally she shakes her head.

"Fine. You win. Don't be late."

"Of course not." Kevin grins, wide and victorious. "This will be fun. I'm stoked we're finally working together."

"Yes," Francine agrees. She's smiling, though her voice sounds anything but impressed. "Nifty, isn't it?"

Kevin laughs, and turns to go.

\- — - — - — - — -

Things go completely to hell, naturally.

They have no trouble getting the jobs in the first place. That goes just fine, even for Francine. And then the shady business, that's the whole point of the job in the first place. And then the 'party' the Agency sponsors, even that goes to plan. Kevin sees Lee and Billy disappear behind a lot of greenery with their mark, and that should be a _good_ thing.

But then there's a car taking off, with Billy and Lee and the mark inside it. The only vehicle close enough to pursue is the Private Party catering van, so Kevin climbs into the passenger seat and is barely buckled in when Francine hits the gas. 

There's a loud curse behind them, the driver probably, and then nothing but the squeal of tires as Francine trails the escaping vehicle.

All the way to a butcher shop so huge it looks like a warehouse. Francine pulls into a wide alley and puts the van in park. She pulls a gun from somewhere, and her expression is as cool and collected as Kevin has ever seen it.

"What now?" he asks. She looks like she has a plan. Plans are good.

"I want you to take the van. Go find a phone, get some help."

"Right." Kevin nods. His pulse is chaos beneath his skin, and it's a good thing he's handy at slipping into crisis mode. Otherwise, he'd be useless right now. They've got no way to know if Lee is all right, and every protective instinct in Kevin's body is screaming in futile rage. 

"Where will you be?" he thinks to ask belatedly.

"I'll be in there," Francine says. "There may not be time to wait for backup."

"Fuck that, you can't go in there alone!"

"I've got no choice."

"I'll go with you."

"No," Francine snaps before he's even finished stating his intention. 

"Yes."

" _No_ ," Francine repeats, louder and sharper. She almost looks…

Scared, Kevin realizes. She's scared of putting him in the line of fire. No fear for herself, she's too much the professional for that, but for him? Maybe it's the fact that he's a civilian. Or maybe she considers him something of a friend after all. Whatever the reason, she's scared for him, and Kevin knows they don't have time for this.

"I'm going with you," Kevin insists. He lets determination darken his voice and doesn't give Francine a chance to interrupt. "I might be able to help. Lee is… important. To me. And if there's a chance I can help him, you can't possibly expect me to just wait in the car hoping he's all right."

Francine stares at him like he's just done something staggering. Like she could not, in seven billion years, have seen this coming. 

For the first time, Kevin gets the feeling she's taking him seriously.

"Wow," she says in a small, stunned voice. "He really means a lot to you." She pauses. Bites her lower lip. "All right. We go in together. But you have to listen to me. I mean it, Kevin, you do _exactly_ as I tell you. And when the going gets rough, you get your ass out of there." 

"I will," Kevin says. When she still looks uncertain, he adds, "I promise."

"Okay," she says. "You ready?"

Kevin nods and watches Francine's grip tighten on her gun.

She clicks the safety off and says, "Let's move."

\- — - — - — - — -

Two days after the criminals are taken into custody—after Kevin stays the entire weekend at Lee's apartment, as naked as possible—Kevin sends Francine the biggest bouquet of flowers money can buy.

He sends them anonymously and makes sure he's at the Agency when they're delivered.

He's never seen Francine's eyes so huge. The bouquet covers an embarrassingly large portion of her desk, and the entire office is staring at the overload of brightly colored blossoms.

"Now _that_ is something," Lee says, gaping at the sight. "Who're they from."

"The card doesn't say." 

Kevin stifles a grin, because of course he knows he knows what the card _does_ say. ' _We make a damn good team_ ,' it says, in some stranger's handwriting. He wonders if he'll have to explain.

But when Francine raises her eyes from the card, there's a knowing twinkle in her eye.

Kevin winks when Lee's not looking, then makes his excuses. He has to get back to Encom. There's a senior management meeting scheduled for eleven o'clock, and if Kevin hurries, he might just make it on time.


	17. Odds on a Dead Pigeon

Between Lee (insisting that the lab check out every angle) and the doctor (talking about twenty-four hours of medical surveillance), Kevin can't get a word in edgewise.

It's all a bit overkill, really. It was just a little nerve gas, and Kevin didn't even inhale much of the stuff. His reflexes are awesome that way. Maybe the whiff he _did_ get knocked him flat for a few minutes, but he feels fine now, thanks. He's fit and energized, not to mention anxious to get home to Sam.

The doctor vanishes down the hall in a flurry of self-importance, and Lee's hand at his elbow directs Kevin through a door and out of the bustling corridor.

The door swings heavily shut behind them, and Kevin turns without dislodging Lee's guiding hand.

"Lee."

"Kevin."

"This isn't fair. It's completely ridiculous. You can't just…" He trails off in a frustrated huff, and finally shakes off Lee's touch.

"What?" Lee's hand still hovers in the air, like he can't quite figure out what to do with it if he's not touching Kevin.

"I don't know why you brought me to a hospital, man. I don't know why you want me to _stay_ in a hospital. I don't want to _be_ in a hospital, so can't we just—?"

" _Kevin_ ," Lee interrupts, voice heavy with exasperation.

"I shouldn't be here," Kevin insists.

"Listen, what's the harm in running a few tests? For your own peace of mind?" Lee steps closer into Kevin's personal space, settling both hands warmly on Kevin's arms.

"I don't need any peace of mind. I have more than enough. My peace of mind is epic beyond your comprehension."

"Okay. Fine. For _my_ peace of mind, then." 

Which would sound placating but for the way Lee's hands tighten as he says the words, and Kevin realizes there's something flinty and sharp flashing in Lee's eyes. Worry crystalized into fierce determination. Lee's not letting Kevin out of this hospital until he knows exactly what was in that gas.

"You're really worried about me." Kevin says it like a revelation, and feels a little foolish for taking this long to notice just how far Lee's been thrown.

Lee's jaw ticks, and for a moment he looks like he intends to play it cool. Then the façade crumbles, leaving his concern painted like an unhappy shadow across his face. 

"You could have died."

"But I didn't." Kevin reaches for Lee finally, framing his face with steady hands. "And I'm not going to. I'm _fine_."

"Please stay. It's only one night."

"And what will you be doing while I'm stuck in here?"

It sounds almost like an accusation, and maybe that's exactly what it is. Kevin's not even the primary target here. Lee is. And of course Lee won't sit quietly on the sidelines, oh no. He'll be right in the thick of it, getting into trouble and putting himself in the line of fire. Same as always.

There's ample confirmation in the way Lee refuses to respond to his question. They both know Lee has no intention of laying low, even while Kevin is corralled here, unable to do a damn thing to help him.

"You are such a fucking hypocrite," Kevin grouses. 

"I'm also a professional spy. You, on the other hand, are a CEO, computer programmer and possibly an elite hacker. Do you think maybe you could let me do my job and protect you for once?"

Sounds like the last thing in the world Kevin wants to do, honestly, but Lee's also right. 

"Fine." Kevin lets his reluctance bleed into the word. 

"Thank you." 

Lee kisses him before departing, and Kevin doesn't want to let go.


	18. Car Wars

"So hey, that friend of yours at the impound lot. What was his name? He seems like a great guy."

"Gino? Yeah, sure." Lee sounds distracted as he fishes the keys out of his pocket and unlocks his apartment door. "Too bad about the Stratford. That was a hell of a car."

"I'll say." Kevin indulges in a moment's mourning for the thought of something so pretty getting crunched into scrap metal. At least it wasn't his fault for once. 

"Any particular reason you're asking about Gino?" Lee gestures him through the door and into the apartment. There's plenty of afternoon sunlight sneaking through the windows, so neither of them makes a move for the light switch just inside the door.

"Just making small talk until we're alone." Kevin grins as the door clicks shut. "I figured you wouldn't appreciate me groping you in public." 

Lee arches an eyebrow that's probably meant to broadcast disdain, but the effect is ruined by the way amusement quirks his mouth at one corner. Amusement sparkles in his eyes, too, and easy fondness warms to expectant heat when Kevin steps closer. 

"C'mere," Kevin says, and grabs Lee by the lapels. A quick tug, a press of lips, and Kevin's arms slide around Lee's shoulders as the kiss deepens. Lee's hands press warmth along Kevin's spine, holding him close, keeping their bodies flush. Kevin's blood rushes towards more specific intentions, and Lee must feel it. He chuckles against Kevin's mouth, then breaking the kiss to nuzzle at Kevin's ear.

"You'd better be staying the night," Lee murmurs. "If you're working me up just to run off to that Bat Cave beneath the arcade, I might never forgive you."

Kevin draws back just far enough to look Lee in the eye—just enough to offer up his broadest, craziest smile—and then ducks his head and presses a kiss to Lee's rapidly beating pulse.

"I'm not going anywhere."


	19. D.O.A.: Delirious on Arrival

It wasn't even that good a sandwich.

But he'd been hungry, and Lee had stolen his breakfast ( _not on purpose, but still_ ). So when Lee offered Kevin the chicken sandwich as a consolation prize, Kevin had said, "You don't have to do that, man," and immediately started stuffing the sandwich in his face.

Kevin wonders, now, what the espionage business is coming to that drugging a chicken sandwich with hallucinogens actually struck someone as a solid plan. And he promises himself he will never eat Lee Stetson's lunch again, no matter how hungry he might be.

He's only guessing on the hallucinogens, actually. He feels pretty steady for the moment, for all that his vision is twisting a bit around the edges. Mostly he just feels shitty. He's only ever had his stomach pumped once before in his life, and the experience isn't any more pleasant the second time. 

He lies on his back, thin mattress uncomfortable beneath him, and listens with a detached sort of interest as Lee and Billy are updated by the Agency's head physician.

"We've identified all of the chemical substances except one," the doctor is saying. "We think it's an experimental drug."

" _And_?" Lee demands. Kevin closes his eyes ( _he'd much rather be asleep than participating in this conversation_ ), but his mouth quirks up at the corner. He knows that tone in Lee's voice well enough to picture the matching look on his face. Exasperation, worry, with a touch of territorial protective instincts darkening his brow.

"Well, the good news is we don't think it's lethal." The doctor sounds like he knows exactly how weak a reassurance he's offering.

"What's the bad news?" Lee asks.

"We're not sure."

"Get to the point, man!" Billy interrupts, and Kevin hears the doctor draw a startled breath. Probably Billy's got his most intimidating face on. Kevin's glad not to have it pointed at him.

"Okay," Doctor Fronan fumbles. "Okay, there's. There's evidence of hallucinogens in some of the substances Mr. Flynn ingested, but we're not sure how that's going to affect him. You see, these drugs can have any effect from minor mood swings to paranoid delusions. Hell, they might not affect him at all."

"Is there an antidote?" Lee's voice is more carefully modulated now. Not softer because he's calmed down, but softer because he's trying to be diplomatic.

"We could come up with one if we could isolate and identify the substance. But that could take days, or even weeks."

Kevin thinks about sitting up and reassuring them that he feels fine, that there's no need to panic. But when he opens his eyes, things don't look quite the same as they did when he closed them. The minor shifting curl of light at the edges of his vision has clearly decided it's more fun to dance around in his direct line of sight. The world is too bright, not to mention all the wrong colors, greens and purples clashing unpleasantly. He thinks he can make out Lee in the mess, but he's suddenly not sure that really _is_ Lee. 

"Hey," comes a smooth voice from the figure that might be Lee. "Kevin, you all right?"

"Yeah," Kevin lies. His tongue feels like lead, and he shakes his head, blinks his eyes. His vision doesn't clear, but Lee _-not-Lee-maybe-Lee_ steps closer and, aside from the purple, looks enough like himself to calm Kevin's nerves.

But then there are other figures moving closer, on either side of Lee, and Kevin sits up sharply. The movement jostles his brain in his skull, and he thinks he can actually hear it sloshing around up there, but that can't be right, can it? Brains don't move that way, he's just a little out of it is all. 

He reaches for Lee, twisting his fingers in Lee's jacket and tugging him forward. Lee nearly overbalances, finally braces himself with both hands on Kevin's shoulders. Kevin doesn't let go now that he's got Lee close.

"Lee," he whispers. "Don't these people look a little weird to you?"

"Kevin, these people are here to help you." He's not whispering. Kevin narrows his eyes and wonders where all Lee's super-spy discretion went. He wonders how the rippling figures are supposed to help him, it's not like he's _staying_ here, he feels fine, he—

"Don't leave me," Kevin hisses, as he realizes Lee might actually ditch him—leave him in the care of strangers whose faces won't stay still enough for Kevin to get a good look. Something like panic bubbles tightly in his chest, and suddenly his hands are shaking, clinging all the tighter to the stiff fabric of Lee's coat. 

"Kevin." Lee's voice sounds placating, and Kevin won't have it. He clings harder.

"Don't leave me!" he insists, and because the wobbly teal figures to Lee's left and right don't matter, he throws any delusions of dignity aside and buries his face against Lee's chest. If he holds on tightly enough, Lee _can't_ leave him here.

But there's darkness closing in on him now, and it's not just the dark fabric of Lee's suit, it's a disorienting fatigue. Kevin curses under his breath as his fingers fall slack, and ragged sleep takes him.  


— - — - — - — - —

It doesn't feel like dreaming, but the Arcade is laid out wrong. There's no cramped apartment upstairs like there should be. Instead, he can see Sam's bedroom through the glass windows of the second floor: his house, plunked down where it doesn't belong.

There's music playing, but Kevin can't decipher it. Something heavy and chaotic, a jumble of songs—three of them, maybe four—he stops listening. The notes are making his head hurt. They clash with the bleeps and pings and tonal ruckus of the games.

The games are playing themselves. Kevin walks the glaring center aisle and sees scores racking high and higher on the screens, though the controls themselves are still and untouched.

The Tron machine—the one that hides the careful secret of Kevin's basement workspace—is nowhere to be seen. In its place, the wall is simply an open void. Blackness behind a crumbling arch that could be a door, could be a hole someone punched in the wall, could be nothing but shadows and a trick of the light. But as Kevin reaches the wall, reaches a hand out to touch and finds empty air instead of brick, he knows the dark hall will lead below just like always.

He moves forward, ready to take the first step down, but stops when small arms wrap around his waist. 

"Daddy, you promised you'd take me to the aquarium!" Sam's voice cuts through the shadows. 

Did he promise? He must have. He's always making promises. He tries to keep them. But he has work to do, there's no time for the aquarium now. He has to get down to the Grid to finish… something. Something important. A miracle.

But Sam is clinging to him, and when Kevin tries to move forward he finds he can't escape the steel trap of Sam's arms.

So he turns instead, looks down at his son. Cards his fingers through Sam's hair in the grim red shadows of the arcade.

"We'll go the Aquarium tomorrow, kiddo. I can't do it tonight."

"But _Dad_ —"

"This can't wait, buddy. It's important." Not more important than Sam. _Nothing_ is more important than Sam. But the aquarium will still be there tomorrow. Kevin can make Sam understand. He can make it up to him.

Sam releases him so suddenly that he almost trips, and Kevin's on the verge of darting down the stairs when some instinct stops him, tells him to turn and look over his shoulder instead. He turns just in time to see Lee step from the shadows and crouch to one knee; to see Sam throw himself into the agent's arms and cling to him, quiet sobs shaking his tiny shoulders. Lee wraps Sam up in a protective hug, but he doesn't take his eyes off Kevin. Those eyes flash hurt and accusing.

"Thanks, man," Kevin whispers. He watches as Lee stands, lifting Sam and balancing him on one hip. Sam's getting too big to be carried, but Lee doesn't seem to mind as Sam's arms slip around his neck and cling even harder. Sam's face is buried against Lee's shoulder, and guilt claws beneath Kevin's chest at the thought of _anyone_ needing to comfort his boy.

It's enough to pull him from the void leading down to his workspace, and he takes a single step toward Lee. Then a second. 

By the time he closes the distance, Sam has stopped crying. But he's still holding on to Lee so tightly his small hands are wrinkling the fabric of Lee's suit. He won't look at Kevin.

"What's so important down there?" Lee asks. His voice is soft, but there's accusation in it just the same. 

"You know what's down there, man. I told you about the Grid. I told you what I found."

"Is it really more important than Sam?" Again the accusation. The mirror of Kevin's previous thoughts. Kevin shakes his head, adamant denial.

"Nothing is more important than Sam." 

"And what about me?"

And even though Sam is still squashed against Lee's side, Kevin steps forward and kisses Lee. Because nothing's more important than Lee, either. Kevin doesn't know how to explain that it's not a question of what matters _more_. He needs everything. Everyone. He can't walk away from the Grid, not now. But he can't lose Sam. He can't lose Lee.

There has to be a balance.

Lee doesn't kiss him back as the arcade swims itself into deeper shadows. He doesn't kiss Kevin back, but Kevin thinks maybe he understands.  


— - — - — - — - —

Kevin wakes, and he's starving. He wonders how long he was asleep. He feels steady again, at least. The world is bright, but it holds still the way it should. It doesn't wobble around the edges or change colors with no warning.

When Kevin sits upright, the resulting disorientation is brief.

He's in Lee's apartment. How did he get to Lee's apartment?

He glances down at his watch, wants to know how long he was out. But the date on his watch… that can't be right. He can't have lost three days to… to… to whatever happened. Whatever made the world go swimmy and wrong.

His brain conjures fragmented images for him. Francine's face, hovering close and almost recognizable through the spotty teal of Kevin's vision. Sunlight. Someplace grassy and green, though the green didn't do a very good job of staying green.

Lee's apartment. With Lee in it, Kevin realizes, as Lee approaches holding a plate of toast and a glass of milk.

"How are you feeling?" Lee asks, setting his cargo on the coffee table and sitting beside Kevin on the couch. 

"Um," Kevin says.

"Yeah, Doctor Fronan said you might not remember much once the drug cleared your system." 

"I… remember a chicken sandwich," Kevin says. His brows furrow together, and his shoulders hunch unhappily. It's about all he _does_ remember, at least all he's got that's clear enough to put into words. Something was wrong with that sandwich. Drug, Lee said just now. So it's a bad trip he's coming down from. That would explain why he's so surprised Lee's apartment isn't wavering and changing colors around him.

He pulls himself from his thoughts and realizes Lee has fallen silent. A quick glance tells him Lee is watching him with a cautious expression. Slightly cryptic, mildly curious, though not particularly worried. It's a strange look on Lee's face just the same, and Kevin narrows his eyes.

"You're looking at me weird. Did I do something embarrassing?"

"No," Lee assures him too quickly. "Everything is fine. You've got nothing to worry about."

"Uh-huh." Kevin doesn't believe him. But he reaches for the toast, because he's really fucking hungry, and he opts not to think about it.


	20. You Only Die Twice

"Have you ever noticed how ridiculously phallic the Washington Monument is?" Kevin nudges Lee with an elbow as they stroll across short-mown grass. 

Lee doesn't answer. His only response is to stuff his hands even more firmly in his pockets and stare resolutely ahead.

"Hey, come on." Kevin grabs him by the arm and drags him to a stop in the shade of a tall tree. "Lee, what the hell, man? Look at me."

Lee raises his eyes with obvious reluctance, and when their gazes lock Kevin is surprised at the ferocity of focus suddenly leveled his way. Lee stares at him with a brooding intensity usually reserved for moments when Kevin has done something dangerously stupid. But despite wracking his brain, Kevin can't think of anything he might have done to earn the expression this time.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he finally asks.

Lee watches him a moment longer, then shakes himself and forces his features to smooth into a milder expression. He offers Kevin a sheepish smile. Kevin isn't fooled.

"Oh, hell no," Kevin says. "No you don't."

When Lee turns as though to keep walking, Kevin puts himself directly in Lee's path and points an accusing finger at his chest.

"You're not off the hook that easy," he says, stubborn resolve glinting like accusation in his eyes. "Something's bothering you. Why are you pissed at me all of a sudden?"

Lee's careless façade fractures, leaving somber ire in its wake. For a second, Kevin fears Lee will turn and storm off instead of answering him. But at last Lee speaks.

"This morning, for an hour and twenty minutes, I thought you were dead."

Yeah. Lee, and Billy, and Encom's Board of Directors, not to mention anyone who bothered to read the paper today. Kevin was plenty surprised himself to see his own death touted on the front page. He can see why Lee might be in a bad mood, considering, but seriously—

"Wait." Kevin's brain trips on the abrupt injustice of this conversation. "You're cranky because you thought I was dead? That wasn't my fault, I found out the same time you did! If you're going to be pissed at someone, why not Billy?" Billy was the one who fucked up the personnel files in the first place. And as to the man who actually died… The thought of an agent so out of touch as to think Kevin Flynn's profile would make for a good cover leaves him thinking uncharitable thoughts. He squashes them hurriedly.

Lee deflates before his eyes at the realization that Kevin is right. The anger slumps right out of his shoulders, and the look he locks on Kevin now is more tired than wrathful.

"I thought you were dead," he repeats with a helpless shrug. "Billy took me to the identify the body. It wasn't until we got to the morgue that we realized there'd been a mix-up." 

"It really freaked you out," Kevin realizes. Lee gives him a withering look that translates roughly to, ' _No shit, moron_.'

"Lee, come on. I'm fine. I'm _right here_." And he's not going anywhere. He may be running more ragged than not these days, but he knows how good he's got it. 

Maybe they cut it close sometimes. Maybe between the Grid and the Agency and Encom Kevin is stretched a little thin. But he'll figure it out. He'll find the right balance.

"What are you doing tonight?" Lee asks, jarring him from exhausting thoughts.

"I need to head home soon. Dinner with Sam." A smile crosses Kevin's face as he adds, "You should join us."

He can see Lee preparing to evade the invitation—still feeling too vulnerable, maybe. He probably wants to get back to his own apartment and lick his wounds. But there's a time and a place for moping. And considering he's _not_ dead, Kevin would much rather have Lee's company tonight.

"I mean it," he says before Lee can formulate some protest. He steps closer, though not so close as to violate propriety in public. "Come to dinner. Sam misses you. And maybe after he goes to bed, we could…" Kevin trails off invitingly and waggles his eyebrows.

Lee looks like he can't decide whether to be amused or exasperated.

"Come to dinner," Kevin repeats. "Stay the night. I promise by morning you won't even remember I was dead."

Lee cracks a smile despite himself, and Kevin sidles close beside him. He throws an arm over Lee's shoulders and starts to lead the way home.


	21. Burn Out

"You're angry with me," Lee observes, climbing through the window into Kevin's office at home.

"Go away." Kevin doesn't even look up from his computer screen.

"Kevin, I'm sorry. I didn't have any choice. I was under orders—"

"Fuck orders, man, you scared the hell out of me!" Kevin shoves up from his desk and whirls on Lee. "You couldn't have given me a _hint_? You know I can keep a secret. You could've let me in on your little charade."

"That's not procedure. It was vital that no one know—"

"Why?" Kevin interrupts. "I'm not even a proper agent, why couldn't you have bent the rules this one fucking time?" Lord knows Lee has bent other rules for him in the past, a dozen times at least. The fact that he didn't this time—that he let Kevin run around thinking the worst, thinking Lee had burned out, was going to get himself killed—wriggles unpleasantly beneath Kevin's skin.

"You think I don't trust you," Lee says softly, and the wind runs straight out of Kevin's sails.

"I don't know what I think." But Kevin can already feel his shoulders slumping with defeat, and he drops carelessly onto the couch beneath the window.

"It was never about trust," Lee says after an awkward length of silence. He sits beside Kevin on the couch, leaving a solid foot of space between them.

"What, then?"

"It's about staying in the right headspace to do the job. Fooling the guys who are used to picking up genuine burnouts, who know exactly what they're looking for. I couldn't afford to drop the act for anyone but Billy. Even Francine didn't know."

Kevin snorts, a wry sound that's not quite a laugh. 

"I bet she's almost as happy about it as I am. I'd watch your back at the office for a while."

"Tell me about it," Lee mutters. His tone is light, but he's watching Kevin with worried eyes. Kevin looks away, trying to hang onto his anger and feeling it trickle through his fingers.

"I never meant to hurt you," Lee says. "I'm sorry."

Kevin sighs and shakes his head, and quick as that he knows he's forgiven Lee. That's the problem with being in love with the best spy on the stupid planet. It's impossible to hold a grudge in the face of such high stakes. 

He slumps against the back of the couch and cocks his head at Lee, one eyebrow arching high.

"When are you going to apologize for the other thing?"

"What other thing?" Lee asks, brows tight with confusion.

"The fact that you almost shot me."

Lee's eyes widen in guilty comprehension.

"I had to make it look real," he protests. "If I hadn't, they would've killed us both!"

"Fine," Kevin concedes. He shoves aside the last of his lingering ire and lets a look of mischief bleed gradually across his features. "I guess that just leaves one question."

"Oh yeah?" Lee watches him warily. "What's that?"

"How are you going to make it up to me?"

Lee blinks at him. Then grins. Then scoots across the couch and leans close. He takes Kevin's face in his hands and presses him back against the cushions, all warmth and kisses and wordless apology.

By the time they part for air, Lee's hand is down Kevin's pants and Kevin has crafted chaos out of Lee's normally perfect hair.

"Stay?" Kevin asks, breathless and grinning.

"You got it," Lee says, and kisses him again.


	22. Murder Between Friends

In the past three weeks, Lee has spent the night in Kevin's bed thirteen times. 

When he doesn't, he usually claims Agency business. Or sometimes it's Kevin's own need to spend a few uninterrupted hours on the Grid. He's learning miraculous things from the ISO's, but there's so much more he doesn't yet know. It would be enough to keep him busy, even without the added responsibilities of Encom and his desire to spend every spare moment with Sam.

But when Lee is in the country, and when Kevin is in the real world—when everything lines up just right—Kevin has gotten used to falling asleep with Lee in his arms. So it only seems natural, once President Nabuti has safely departed the United States, that Lee should follow Kevin home.

Sam's always happy to see Lee. Best secret agent in the entire fucking world, and he's laughing at a seven-year-old's jokes, building a tall Lego tower on the rug and arguing about the merits of a garage versus a helicopter pad.

Kevin doesn't weigh in on that particular conversation, though he'd take a good bike over a helicopter any day.

\- — - — - — -

Kevin is too tired that night for anything but a few slow, sleepy kisses. From the way Lee curls warmly around him without a word, seems like it's not just him.

The next morning is a different story entirely. The sun's not even up before Kevin's got Lee beneath him, all roaming hands and gasping moans. Perfect. Kevin's shirt and boxers are somewhere across the room, and a moment later he tosses Lee's sweats aside so hard there's no telling where they land.

"Impatient bastard," Lee laughs, then groans as Kevin slips down the length of his body and takes Lee's cock in his mouth.

Kevin grins around heated flesh, and hums smugly as he takes Lee deeper. He thrills at the wild, needy sounds elicited by his ministrations.

" _Fuck_ ," Lee gasps. "Fuck, Kevin, do that again." And then there are no more words for a while, and Kevin is just fine with that. 

The sun rises an hour and sixteen minutes later, and Kevin's alarm would have gone off by now if he hadn't silenced it in deference to the weekend. Instead, he's enjoying the sated lethargy of a quiet morning. Lee is asleep again, curled against Kevin's bare chest, and Kevin watches him with possessive warmth.

"Good morning," Lee murmurs without opening his eyes. Kevin's smile spreads wider.

"Morning," he agrees.

Lee shifts in Kevin's arms, brown eyes blinking open as he props himself up on one elbow. The corner of his mouth twitches, and—

"Dad!" Sam's voice calls from the hall, excitement and way too much energy for this early in the morning. "Dad? _Dad_!" Footsteps accompany the summons, quick and flurried, and then a pounding on the bedroom door. "Dad, Scooby-Doo is starting!"

Right. Because it's Saturday. Kevin groans and sits up.

"Better get decent," he warns, reaching over the side of the bed in search of his discarded shirt.

"Isn't the door locked?" Lee asks, eyeing him uncertainly.

"Yeah, but that just buys us the ten minutes it takes him to pick the lock."

"He's _seven_." Lee is now staring at Kevin like _one_ of them is crazy and he can't quite figure out which.

"Yep," Kevin agrees. His fingers close on soft cotton, and he tugs the t-shirt over his head. He has to actually get out of bed to find his boxers, which seem to have flown a bit farther, and then he tugs those on too and feels more or less ready to face the morning.

Lee still looks leery, but he accepts the bundle of clothes Kevin hands him and dresses quickly.

"Kevin, what are you teaching this kid?"

"Everything I know, man." Kevin grins, and the second Lee is decent, he opens the door.


	23. Vigilante Mothers

Its hours since the nerve gas has been recovered, the culprit locked away. 

It's slightly fewer hours since Vesuvius itself (or an impressively accurate recreation) erupted in Kevin's living room, hilarious and horrifying all at once. Kevin will never forget Sam's wide, guilty eyes when Kevin walked into the room and saw the carnage that had previously been his son's history project.

Now it's late, and it's quiet—just him and Sam and a bedtime story—and after this Kevin will go back to his lab beneath the arcade. He has work to do. He's right on the edge of something amazing.

But for now he tells Sam about the Grid. It's his son's favorite bedtime story, all the more powerful because it's real. One of these days Sam is liable to grow up and stop believing his dad's radical tales, but Kevin is ready for that. Sam will believe again when he sees the Grid with his own eyes. 

Kevin wants to share all of it with Sam; his son is the reason any of this matters.

Tonight he tells Sam about his miracle. Kevin’s never told him that part before.

He doesn't explain about the ISO's. Too complicated an abstract for a seven-year-old, even one as brilliant as Sam Flynn, and anyway Kevin’s going to show him instead. Soon. He'll take Sam and Lee to the Grid, and he’ll show them both everything Kevin has discovered. 

But he tells Sam something extraordinary has happened. He tells him it's a miracle. Sam is all questions and wide eyes, and there's so much faith in his face that Kevin's chest aches just looking at him.

He promises they'll go to the arcade tomorrow, tossing Sam a quarter as Kevin moves for the door.

"Can we play doubles?" Sam asks, expression open and excited. "On the same team?"

Kevin smiles.

"We're always on the same team."

Then he steps through the door, into the untroubled night beyond. His bike is parked on the curb outside, and Kevin secures his helmet, guns the engine.

Something's going to happen tonight. Something big. Kevin can feel it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **~~The End~~  
>  To be concluded...**


End file.
